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Subject 1275 stood in the padded room, waiting for the man across from him to make the first move. In the months since he had come out of stasis, he had found himself actually looking forward to the days that he had hand to hand combat training. It was draining like nothing else had been, but he had found himself hungering for it, hungering for the chance to fight. It had been little more than two months ago that his training had changed, changed for the better. Before that singular day, it had all been instruction, being told how to do things, how to fight with different styles. A smile began to form on the wolf's face as he recalled to his mind the day he had surprised everyone. The judo instructor had come at him as he always did, grabbing him for a throw, but all of a sudden, the wolf had felt it. He felt the shift of weight coming and as the instructor lifted him and flipped him over, 1275 had grabbed the instructor's arm and instead of flying, he had landed on his feet, twisting with his hips even as his full weight came down and suddenly, it was the instructor that was flying end over end, landing heavily on his back.

1275 had expected the instructor to be mad, but instead, all of them had seemed happy with his performance. And ever since, the training had been all about real fighting, not teaching. Now, he came to the training room and each instructor would fight him in turn, letting him learn what he could from his own experience. Each bruise and injury taught him something else, each loss gave him insight into how to win. And he was getting better every day; now it was not only he that ended up with injuries. But today was a little different. For the first time, in his right hand, he held a real knife with a sharpened edge, not a dull practice one. The edge of the combat knife was honed to a razor's thickness and as he stood there, watching the camouflage clothed soldier across from him, he weaved the blade through his furred fingers, absorbing all the information about it that he could. It was a little heavy on the hilt side, not balanced for throwing, though that was a problem he had long ago learned to overcome. There were serrations on the bottom three inches of the blade which could get stuck if he stabbed too deep; he would have to be careful if he was fighting more than one person. And then, all thoughts of the knife were put instantly out of his head as the instructor moved, the wolf boy's grip switching instantly so the blade was up in his hand, point towards his foe.

On instinct, 1275 ducked, dodging a step backward as the instructor slashed at him with his own knife, the blade missing his ears by inches. As the instructor reversed the stroke, 1275 sidestepped, catching the instructor's arm with his free hand. Twisting the man's arm sharply, he forced the elbow upward, bringing his own knife down in a slash across the inside of the instructor's wrist exactly as he had been taught to do, the razor's edge biting deep, severing tendons, forcing the fingers to open, removing the instructor's access to a weapon, even as he stepped back, preparing for the inevitable counter attack. What he wasn't prepared for, what the instructors had never mentioned to him, was the precise feel of the razor's edge parting flesh, nor the sound of the instructor's sharp intake of breath, or the scream that came after. Blood sprayed outward from the man's arm as the wolf's knife stroke severed something in the man's wrist, the red arc of fluid painting a line across his neck and face as well as down the front of his jumpsuit. Shocked, 1275 dropped his knife and stepped back, looking down at his bloody clothes in horror, his stomach twisting as the horrible copper scent of blood filled his sharp nose. The man he had sliced clutched his wrist tightly, his own knife lying in the red puddle on the floor, and suddenly, 1275 was hit from behind, a blow from something much harder than a fist. At once, the horror vanished and instinct honed by endless fighting took over, the boy rolling forward with the momentum of the strike, coming back up to his feet in an instant, whirling to face his new attacker, his mind in overdrive.

A second instructor was there, a fiberglass tonfa in his hand and 1275 didn't wait for him to attack again. Instead, he lunged at the man, the motion turning into a diving roll that ended with his shoulder slamming hard into the man's legs, knocking him over onto the ground. Before the instructor could recover, the wolf had sprung back onto his legs in a crouch, his fist coming down hard on the man's chin, his knuckle striking the 'smile line' pressure point. The instructor's eyes went wide and his hand released the stick as the pain of the blow slammed into him. Before the fallen instructor could react, the wolf snatched up the weapon, turning on instinct alone and catching the blow from a second nightstick wielding instructor on the haft of the weapon. Twisting the nightstick to the side, the wolf lashed out with a lightning swift kick at his foe's knee. The man in turn twisted his leg to catch the strike on his thigh and the wolf disengaged, backing away to give himself more room, knowing it would only be moments until the other instructor got back up.

The third man, the one still on his feet, didn't hesitate for more than a moment, stepping after him and swinging the nightstick forward, aiming for the wolf's head. Flicking the long end of his weapon forward, 1275 bashed aside the blow and immediately took advantage of the opening, his free hand pushing at the instructor's elbow, the unexpected force making him turn and the wolf kicked out a second time. This time, the blow connected where he intended, a loud, somewhat hollow pop echoing in the dojo as the joint went sideways, a direction it wasn't supposed to go. The instructor's knee buckled in an instant and the wolf brought his weapon down on the man's opposite wrist, the hard strike making the man let go of his weapon. Cradling his probably broken wrist, the instructor clenched his teeth hard, trying not to yell and 1275 backed up, taking a quick look around for more attackers. The other five instructors were circling around him now, each of them holding a different weapon and the young wolf found himself settling into a strange stance, almost a crouch, but nowhere near as restricted. His muscles were coiled like springs, ready to move like lightning, a funny sort of feeling settling into his brain. He felt calm, confident and assured, his horror at the blood submerged beneath the new awareness. Instead of his human sensibilities, a strange, animalistic sense of things descended over his mind, a new frame of reference locking into place.

1275's eyes locked with each opponent in turn, wondering from whom the attack would come first. Finally, his gaze settled on the hulking form of the head instructor. The man was speaking, making gestures that seemed meaningful somehow, but for a reason the boy couldn't guess, the words didn't make sense. It was like he was speaking another language entirely, one that was so foreign to the wolf boy that he couldn't even recognize the sounds. And oddest of all, the words and his inability to understand them did not seem important, all that mattered was that he was surrounded, surrounded by men that were armed and a danger to him. Instead of trying to wrap his head around the meaningless words that were directed at him, he focused on other senses, other information flooding into his mind. He could scent their excitement at the coming fight, and more, their fear, because they had seen what he could do, knew intimately what he was capable of, since they had been the ones to teach him. And that fear made his lupine lips twist upward in a grin that was almost cruel. Something else occupied his mind too, the distant, phantom pains of the beating he had endured at the hands of Director Archer, the feeling of helplessness that had overwhelmed any thought, any action he might have taken. And at that memory, the promise he had made to himself came back to his mind. Never again. Then, he caught motion out of the corner of his eye and what little remained of his conscious, human self left him.

He turned, quick as a striking snake, the nightstick in his hand intercepting the incoming blow of an instructor, passing his nightstick to the side while his other arm struck like a hammer, hand held like a blade. The instructor recoiled backward, his eyes going wide as the boy's body blow snapped a rib. Then, a heartbeat later, he was sent tumbling backward as the wolf's right leg connected with the broken bone with perfect precision in a powerful sidekick, augmented muscles straining, something else giving way within his target's chest as he struck, but 1275 had already forgotten him. Another man was coming at him, a long knife like a machete in his right hand, but fear belonged to the human in him, not the wolf that had taken over. The instructor swiped at him with the huge knife, the blade whistling as it cut the air, but the wolf boy was ready for him. Bringing the nightstick he carried around, the wolf intercepted the strike, the blade burying itself in the fiberglass, sticking in place, exactly as he intended. Before the human before him understood what had happened, 1275's hand had already grabbed the extended arm, a twisting yank ripping it out of joint with a rippling pop. Before the instructor could even cry out, the boy had stomped down on his extended foot, then shoved his chest with all his might. The prototype's shove, powered by rage and a strength that was greater than any adult human's, sent the instructor tumbling away from him. Unfortunately for his leg, with his foot pinned down, all of that force had nowhere to go. The instructor screamed as he fell, all of the tendons and sinews in his leg overextending, giving way with the shove.

But, even as the wolf boy grinned in triumph, a heavy arm clad in camouflage encircled his neck from behind, a second pinning his arms in place around his chest, the two limbs lifting him off his feet. He could feel the man's strength, could scent his adrenaline as he tried to subdue the boy's rampage. A fourth instructor was coming forward, dropping his weapon, obviously intending to grab his legs. If they did that, then that would be the end. Already, the arm around his neck was cutting off air. But they had taught him too well. Even as his feet left the ground, 1275 pushed off hard, the sudden motion loosening the grip just enough. Working one arm free, the wolf pushed the arm around his throat out from his neck just enough, his head darting downward. The instructor's bellow was so loud that 1275 could feel it through his teeth as they sunk deep into the man's forearm. The fourth instructor turned back to grab his weapon once more when he heard the scream, and the wolf knew he had made a mistake. Planting his feet, he took a step back, between the third instructor's legs, swept an arm up to break the man's grip, then yanked with his head, dragging the man around so he was poised in front of the boy before opening his crimson stained jaws and slamming a flat fist hard into the man's solar plexus, letting him drop at his feet.

Ignoring the man who was suddenly left trying to scream through lungs that were barely working, the wolf boy suddenly launched himself at the fourth instructor, the diving, wolf like lunge catching the man by surprise. He, like all the others, seemed almost to be moving in slow motion, and that was his mistake. He had almost gotten the three foot long escrima stick he had been carrying up into striking position when he suddenly found himself going backward, the wolf boy's body check having caught him in the gut. To his credit, the man reacted well, almost performing a backflip and landing on his feet, the stick abandoned. The wolf boy grinned evilly at the sight, coming forward so quick that the man was helpless before him. Four quick strikes to his belly, ribs and groin and the man was done, curling helplessly into the fetal position as he fell, cursing. 1275 was just turning around, looking for the fifth man, the head instructor when a sudden sound made the red haze over his sight suddenly draw back. Applause. Panting hard and looking around, the wolf boy suddenly found that, where the practice room had been empty seemingly only moments before, he now had an audience. The head instructor was standing well back from the pile of injured instructors, flanked by at least six soldiers in full combat gear, their rifles trained on him. None of them were clapping, and it took him a moment to realize that the applause were coming over the intercom.

Suddenly, 1275 looked down at the instructors at his feet, his eyes widening, looking down at his hands in surprise. He had never before experienced anything like that. Never, in all the months of training that they had put him through, had he ever fought with such speed, such instinctual prowess. Realizing that his jaws were still dripping with blood, he spat, shaking his head to clear it over the last remnants of that strange sensation. Then, suddenly, the burning heat of his anger cooled into ice at the voice that replaced the applause.

"Put your arms at your sides subject 1275." Director Archer's voice commanded and he instinctually disobeyed for a moment, hands returning to ready position slowly. "Do it, or you will be tranqued." Not wishing to experience the nauseating sedatives once again, 1275 finally complied, lowering his hands and the Director's voice came back again. "Good. You will be returned to your quarters now. You are done for the day."

The soldiers instantly lowered their weapons and he followed them out, the walk back to his quarters seeming to take only a few seconds, the time passing so fast he hardly had a chance to take a breath in the span between leaving the practice room and going back to his quarters. When the door shut behind him, he stood there in silence for a full minute before he realized that he had never been given such a short day of training before. He found himself wondering what he was supposed to do now. Looking around, he noticed that some thoughtful person had visited his quarters while he had been out, because the bedroom had obviously been cleaned and a ration pack had been left behind on the bed. His stomach letting out a growl at the sight of the food, 1275 hurried to the bed and ripped open the pack, spilling the contents out on the bedspread. It certainly looked the same as the ones he had eaten before, with several foil envelopes and a condiment package. But whoever had left it there seemed to have known his preferences, for this pack was 1275's favorite of all the ration packs they had given him over the months of training. Chicken parmesan, buttered noodles, crackers and a small cake for dessert.

Suddenly feeling ravenous, the wolf eagerly squeezed the button on the entrée pack, starting the pack heating. The foil pack immediately started giving off the oddly satisfying crackling noises, and after a few moments, he ripped off the top of the pack and breathed in the heady aroma of chicken and red sauce. Taking up the fork, he speared it into the pack, lifting out a chunk of the chicken and stuffing it into his mouth despite the heat, looking forward to the taste of...blood!? Spitting out the mouthful hurriedly, he looked down in amazement. His jumpsuit was almost covered in it and he had completely forgotten. Suddenly not remotely hungry, he set the ration pack on the bed, hurrying into the small bathroom attached to his bedroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He almost didn't recognize the face that looked back at him. He saw the reflection of someone wearing his face, but someone that obviously wasn't him. The fur around his jaws was caked in crimson blood, the eyes were hard, cold, the stare of some...thing; like something brutal and cruel, something that wasn't even close to him had stolen his face. Then, all of a sudden, the look changed, the ferocity vanishing, and instead, he saw himself once more, scared, horrified. His ears folding back, his look turning into one of horror, the wolf boy staggered a half step to the side, acid welling up in his throat. Finally, the shock of the violence he had inflicted on the instructors welled up in him and he retched, his stomach clenching, though he had nothing to bring up.

The feeling of his knife parting flesh seemed to come back to him, rising up his arm in a terrible wave, the visceral sensations of his hands and feet striking his opponents coming next. He heard once again the pops as bones broke beneath his strikes, the rippling sound of joints dislocating and he retched again, going down to his knees. And as he gasped for breath, the awful coppery tinge of blood filled every crevice in his lungs and he retched a third time. Shaking his head, refusing to breathe, 1275 forced himself to move, to get into the shower stall. Hurrying, he turned it on, not caring what temperature the water was, not caring that he was still fully clothed. The water was cold, shocking his system, but he didn't care. It was what he wanted. Lying back against the wall of the shower stall, he put his head in the icy stream and breathed deep, clearing the spinning from his head. Staring up at the ceiling, the wolf boy sat in the water and forced himself not to look at the crimson rivers that flowed into the drain at his feet...

***

"What one earth was that, Gunny?" Director Archer demanded, re-running the security camera footage from the dojo. "Your reports never mentioned anything like this."

"That is because, Director, the boy..." As the Director's eyebrows raised at his phrasing, the muscular combat trainer paused to take a breath. "...The subject, has never displayed that kind of reaction before. In his training, he has been progressing at a steady pace, and, until this moment, he has never jumped in skill like that before. Which is why I sent in my instructors, not the MPs."

"Well he certainly jumped." The director replied, his eyes glued to the footage as the wolf boy furiously savaged the instructors. From the way 1275 was fighting, it looked like the instructors were amateur fighters up against a master, not some of the best instructors in the military up against a child. When the footage ended once again, the Director back-tracked it to watch again. While the footage was resetting, the Director spoke again, his tone unconcerned, almost conversational. "What is the condition of your men?"

"With the sole exception of Sergeant Tyler, all are out of action for at least two months." The gunnery sergeant reported. "Sergeant Miller and Corporal Lorenzo were the worst injured. Miller likely won't be able to return to duty at all, not since he lost his liver to that broken rib. Even with a cloned replacement, he isn't going to be up to instructor duty again. And Lorenzo is going to need extensive reconstructive surgery to repair all of those tendons and ligaments."

"Very well." The Director said, watching the footage once again. "I believe you had a list of alternative choices for instructors. Please make your selections for replacements and have them to me by the end of tomorrow."

"Sir..." The sergeant began, sounding like he was going to protest, but the Director cut him off.

"We are on a timetable sergeant, and time is getting short." The Director stated, cocking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes, leaning a little way forward towards the display. "I want the list by the end of the day tomorrow. Dismissed."

"Yes sir." The gunny replied, snapping a salute before walking out. When the man was gone, the Director started the play-back once again, this time from the point the last instructor went down to when the boy left the dojo. Pressing play, the Director watched it through again, then backtracked it and pressed the intercom button.

"Dr. Klein, join me in the conference room." He said, pausing the image and zooming in on 1275's face.

"I have work to do Director." Klein replied, starting to continue, but the Director cut him off.

"Now, Doctor." He said, stroking his chin with a hand. While the doctor was on his way, the Director saved a copy of the altered sequence, then loaded the original. It was a few minutes before the conference room door opened to reveal an annoyed looking Dr. Klein.

"What, may I ask, is so important Director?" He asked, an edge in his voice.

"Watch." The Director ordered, then pressed the activation switch once more. The footage began to play, showing the wolf boy ripping his way through the last three instructors. The scientist looked appalled, grimacing as the last instructor fell to the ground. After the video ended, the Doctor looked angrily at the Director.

"You called me away from my research to show me that? You must be so proud... So proud that the training is working." The Doctor demanded hotly and the Director rolled his eyes once more.

"No Doctor. Not that." Archer replied, then brought up the other feed. "No, what I wanted to show you was this." At first the Doctor seemed surprised to see the zoomed in view, and at first, the director thought he had missed it, then the Doctor cocked his head as well. When the video stopped playing, he backtracked once more, then played it through at half speed. "What I wanted to show you was that, right...there." The Director pointed to the wolf's eyes. It was subtle, but one moment, the wolf's eyes went from being dark, ferocious and uncaring, the look of a cornered predator fighting its way out of a corner, and the next, they were, for lack of a better description, human, almost innocent, the eyes of a teenager. "What is that?"

"I'm not sure..." Klein replied, leaning in towards the display, "Play it again please." When the Director complied, Klein shook his head. "Strange. I don't know what that is. Can you show me just before the fight started with the current image settings?" When the video played through once more, the scientist spoke once more, repeating his previous statement. "Strange. I of course cannot be sure without examination of the mental activity during the incident, but it's possible that the Wolf DNA has in some way created a second personality, one that is more animal than human."

"Hmmm..." The Director hummed, stroking his chin once more. "Is 1275's neural net ready for implantation?"

"Not quite." The Doctor replied, sounding distracted. "Its proving difficult to modify the sheathing to stand up to the conditions of hand to hand combat, especially in an unarmored soldier. If the new batch of synthetic myelin holds up like it should, we will be ready in a few days."

"Fine, fine." Archer replied. "As soon as possible. And I want you to find a way of triggering this altered state. If this is the kind of performance we can expect, then it would be highly valuable."

"Yes Director." Klein replied. "Is there anything else?"

"No, you can go." He answered, turning his back on the scientist.

***

Once the door to his office had slid shut, Dr. Klein tapped the computer control, sealing the door to his access code only, his mind racing. Shaking his head, the head scientist leaned back against it for a moment, closing his eyes. Back when he had been approached by the military about this project, he had been excited, excited about the science, excited about the possibilities. What scientist wouldn't have been? After all, this was the dream of many. Manipulating the very essence of the world to create super human soldiers was something that many would have killed to be a part of. But now, Klein was having serious second thoughts. It had begun when he learned what age the prototypes were going to be, and it had only gotten worse when he had seen what the training was doing to them. And now this. There had been another reason that he had thought of, another explanation that seemed far more likely to him than just the DNA changing the way the boy was reacting to things. He had seen the look on his face when his eyes had changed, a look that seemed burned into the darkness behind his eyes. It had been a look of horror, the look of someone trapped with no way out. Then the eyes had changed and the wolf had become a whirlwind, forcing a way out. Archer called it valuable. Klein thought horrifying was a better description. Finally, opening his eyes, he walked back to his desk and the holographic display that was there.

"Computer, access security recording from Subject 1275's quarters, play from first marker." He commanded and the holo-recording popped up once again, showing the wolf boy after he got back to his quarters from the bloody fight. When it got to the part where the boy entered the bathroom he winced, forcing himself to watch as the panicked child, for a child he was, no matter how much Klein tried to deny it, sat for almost a half hour in the shower, looking sick, his eyes almost vacant, as if he couldn't believe what he had just done. "Computer, access live feed, same cameras."

The view paused for a moment, then shifted to the greenish-white view of night vision. The bathroom was empty, except for the discarded jumpsuit 1275 had been wearing. Even in the green tint of the image enhancement, he could see that it was still badly stained with blood. For a moment, Dr. Klein couldn't see the young wolf, until he noticed that the bed was missing its covers. In the corner of the room furthest from the door, 1275 sat against the wall, huddled into as tight as space as he could manage, the blankets wrapped close around him. His eyes were open and he looked awful. Sick, horrified and full of what Connor Klein knew to be self-loathing. Dr. Klein would have loved to have been able to help comfort him, but the Director had made it clear that if he interfered again, he would be replaced, and then both prototypes would be at the mercy of the Director. Shaking his head, Dr. Klein turned off the camera feed and sat heavily behind his desk. Now he really wished he had never agreed to be a part of this project, or maybe that he had refused to go on unless they had used adults as subjects. No, He thought, shaking his head before laying it tiredly on the desk. That wouldn't have helped. Children were the best choice for this sort of thing, since their bodies had yet to mature fully, and so any changes made would be integrated right along with normal development. If only there was something else he could do...